(To hear us talk) <br /> <br />The tree the tempest with a crash of wood <br />Throws down in front of us is not bar <br />Our passage to our journey's end for good, <br />But just to ask us who we think we are <br /> <br />Insisting always on our own way so. <br />She likes to halt us in our runner tracks, <br />And make us get down in a foot of snow <br />Debating what to do without an ax. <br /> <br />And yet she knows obstruction is in vain: <br />We will not be put off the final goal <br />We have it hidden in us to attain, <br />Not though we have to seize earth by the pole <br /> <br />And, tired of aimless circling in one place, <br />Steer straight off after something into space.<br /><br />Robert Lee Frost<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/on-a-tree-fallen-across-the-road-2/
